


Enjolras Can Punch Like a Motherfucker

by symptomoftheuniverse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Grantaire, Bathroom Sex, College Student Amis de l'ABC, D/s, Dom/sub, Grantaire is getting better, M/M, Masochism, Minor Violence, Modern Era, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Enjolras, Protective Enjolras, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, cause we're hardcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symptomoftheuniverse/pseuds/symptomoftheuniverse
Summary: Grantaire always ends up getting himself into these sorts of situations. But this time,he has a knight in shining armor. And he can punch like a motherfucker.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Enjolras Can Punch Like a Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another one! I'm pretty happy that I managed to write a longer one this time. I hope you all enjoy it! Once again, its not beta-read cause I suck, so I apologize for any errors.

It wasn’t a bar any of them were familiar with and he had had to persuade all of his friends to go with the promise of cheap drinks. The drinks were definitely cheap. And definitely terrible. His beer tasted like piss-water. Grantaire loved it.

He was drunk; a feeling he still enjoyed but experienced less often now in his relationship with Enjolras. Enjolras had become a very favorable distraction in his life, one that he no longer pined over from a distance, but one that lay in bed next to him most nights. While his boyfriend wasn’t a cure to his problems, he was certainly a new support system for him; someone who helped him drink less often. In Bahorel’s words, less often to Grantaire meant “not being trashed every day of the week”, but even so, Enjolras had told him he was proud of him last week, and those words echoed over and over in Grantaire’s head, pushing him forward. 

But tonight, he was drunk; he could spy his flushed face and dazed smile in the grimy mirror behind the bar as he ordered another beer. Feuilly and Bahorel were laughing loudly on his right and Jehan was swaying unsteadily next to him, ordering a glass of wine. Even Enjolras was drinking a beer, and while he would usually be watching Grantaire closely, he was instead conversing lightly with Combeferre and Courfeyrac in a dark corner of the dirty little bar-or however lightly those three could converse. However, Grantaire didn’t miss the moments in which his eyes scanned the bar for Grantaire, checking on him, before returning to his conversation. It made Grantaire’s stomach flutter.

It was a night he had been looking forward to all week; they all had, as it was a celebration for the end of midterms. Grantaire guaranteed each of them had pulled at least one all-nighter during the past week, he himself having spent hours upon hours of exhausting work on finishing his pieces. But it was over now and the night was still young. After the bar the friends were planning on all cramming into Eponine’s tiny flat for a night of hash and bottles of wine. Eponine’s parties in her tiny flat used to make Grantaire a bit anxious, as he was always in fear of repeating his drunken accident of literally falling into Enjolras’ lap and spilling his drink. But now that they were dating it was different, and at last weekend’s party Enjolras had pulled him into his lap; Grantaire had let out an embarrassing squeak and then tried to punch Bahorel in the face for laughing.

The bartender handed him his beer just as Bahorel had wrapped his arm around Feuilly’s shoulders and began to sing loudly to the shitty music in the bar. Grantaire chuckled and turned around, his eyes zeroing in on where his boyfriend was sitting. He was just about to stumble his way over to interrupt what looked like a very boring conversation, when a young woman stepped in front of him with a glassy-eyed smile on her face. She was big, with muscular looking arms and a wide torso and she sort of towered over Grantaire. She looked like she could snap his neck with one hand. Her long black hair was greasy and her pupils were dilated as she slurred out a “Hey baby,” and almost fell into him.

Grantaire smiled awkwardly. “Hi, um sorry I’m trying to get over to my-” she took another step forward and this time did actually fall into him, causing him to bump into the counter and nearly spill his beer in the process. She giggled drunkenly and he rolled his eyes, halfway in mock annoyance. He was too drunk for this shit. But, he was sympathetic, as the experienced drunk he himself was.

“Woah, take it easy.” He put his beer down and nudged her onto a barstool. He glanced over at Enjolras who had his back turned to him. The perfect time for him to scare the shit out of him, he thought deviously. He turned back to the girl “Now, why don’t you just get yourself a glass of water and I’m going-”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend?” A gruff voice behind him shouted over the loud music. Grantaire rolled his eyes for the second time that night. Again, he was way too drunk for this shit.

He turned around dizzily, with his mouth open ready to explain, and came face to face with an even bigger man; a sweaty, round, greasy looking man who smelled like beer and had fists the size of his head. Well, shit.

“Sorry man, I think your girlfriend here is a little drunk I was just making sure she didn’t collapse.” His own words came out slightly slurred and he smiled sheepishly. Hopefully the guy could see his girl- who was slumped over the counter at this point-and understand. 

“Yeah? Well why don’t you keep your hands to yourself you little shit.”

Well fuck. He put his hands up and cursed himself for always stumbling into these situations. “I was just trying to help her, I have a boyfriend I was trying to get over to him and she stumbled into me.” He figured he’d leave out the part of her coming onto him, he was already in enough trouble as it was.

The guy began crowding Grantaire back against the bar and he felt himself panic a bit. He could fight, he’d been in, and won, his fair share of fights, but his feet were quite heavy and the booze made his arms feel like jello. And this man looked like a wall of blubber and beer gut. Where the fuck had Bahorel and Feuilly gone? The assholes must be off collapsed in some booth together. Very reassuring.

The man pressed him to the bar as he backed up as far as he could go. The panic grew. Where was everyone? Could no one see what was going on? The music was loud, too loud and Grantaire’s vision was too hazy to focus far past the man’s shoulders

His breath smelled horrible when he opened his mouth to spit out, “I oughta fuck you up you little faggot- “

“What’s going on here?” Enjolras stood behind the man and Grantaire, despite his fear, couldn’t help but smile stupidly at his boyfriend, whose face was twisted in anger. The man spun around to face Enjolras, leaving Grantaire to lean drunkenly against the bar that he was still trapped against. He could have swooned like a teenage girl, despite the predicament he had gotten himself into. Behind Enjolras appeared to be Combeferre and Courfeyrac. The dynamic trio, as Grantaire had nicknamed them.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man grunted.

“I’m Grantaire’s boyfriend. Who the fuck are you? And why do you have him trapped up against the bar?” Enjolras’ tone was cool, steady, but Grantaire could see the flames in his expression. His face was flushed with drink but he was steady on his feet with his fists clenched by his sides. His eloquent and articulate boyfriend’s rare use of a curse word only hinted more to just how angry he was. In the back of his mind his he couldn’t help but think of how hot it was. 

“Your ugly little faggot boyfriend,” he sneered the word boyfriend as if it were an insult, “was feeling up my girl.” Grantaire couldn’t help but flinch at the word ‘ugly’, the words hitting an obvious soft spot. Enjolras’ eyes caught his boyfriends flinch and he narrowed them. There was a pause between the two, Enjolras not saying anything, just continuing to clench his fists. Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked both angry and just as confused as Grantaire. He worried his bottom lip. Maybe Enjolras believed the man? He certainly must believe his insults-

In a split second Enjolras had pulled his fist back and punched the guy square in the jaw. Grantaire had seen Enjolras hit someone once in his life, a nazi at a protest a few months back. The man had fallen to the ground, unconscious, and Enjolras had been dragged away to a cop car with the man’s blood on his knuckles. It had been terrifyingly terrific, heroic, and very hot. It had been then that Grantaire had first learned of Enjolras’ terrific strength and ability to fight. All that anger and passion had to go somewhere, and in very rare, but appropriate times (according to the stories Combeferre had told him), that energy flew through his fists.

This time was no different. The contact was so hard on the guys jaw that Grantaire swore he heard a crack over the loud music, as the man practically flew back into Grantaire, who reacted almost instinctively by kneeing the guy in the back as hard as he could. The man fell to the floor, apparently unconscious, and Grantaire felt his face split into a goofy smile. He looked up at Enjolras whose face mirrored his.

\---

The music was equally as loud in Eponine’s small apartment, but instead of shit techno-pop, Eponine had put on Crass in Enjolras’ honor.

“For Grantaire’s knight in shining armor,” she had said.

Grantaire was leaning against his said ‘hero’s’ chest in the corner of Eponine’s beat up couch, holding a wine bottle in one hand and a joint in the other while Enjolras iced his knuckles on a melting bag of frozen cauliflower. Periodically, he would teasingly touch it to Grantaire’s exposed neck, making the artist yelp.

After Enjolras’...stunt, he had managed to get the whole group out of the bar before the bartender could figure out what exactly had happened. Thank god the broke students had only paid in cash. They had all stumbled out of the bar, Grantaire herding them away as they all drunkenly questioned what had happened, Jehan almost in tears at the sight of Enjolras’ hand. Grantaire couldn’t stop grinning. Despite the things the man had said and the fear the whole situation had caused, the idea of Enjolras punching a man, all for _his_ sake, made his stomach flutter.

Thinking back to the whole situation now, Grantaire curiously eyed Enjolras’ knuckles, as Enjolras had his arm wrapped around Grantaire, almost… protectively, his cloudy mind observed. The skin had already purpled but otherwise looked fine, and earlier Joly who had been fairly sober at the time, assured everyone that nothing was broken. The medical student had then proceeded to get amazingly drunk and was now lounging on one of Eponine’s rickety chairs. With the whole event over and done with, and everything ending up okay, Grantaire couldn’t help but think about how amazingly _hot_ Enjolras had been in that moment (though, he always was), the absolute fury in his eyes as he had absolutely destroyed the man’s jaw. All for Grantaire.

He took a swig from his bottle to ease his suddenly dry throat before returning his gaze back to Enjolras’ hand. He glanced around. None of his friends seemed to be interested in the couple, Joly looking dazedly up at the ceiling and Courfeyrac and Combeferre on the small balcony, leaned against each other and looking out at the city. The rest of their friends were behind them in the corner of the room where the kitchen was, drinking and laughing. Not that he really cared who saw what he was about to do anyway.

He grasped Enjolras’ wrist, taking the cauliflower out of his uninjured hand and raising the knuckles to his lips, lightly kissing each one. The skin was cool and soft to his lips. He felt Enjolras’ arm tighten around him very slightly while he leaned his head back. When Grantaire carefully uncurled his fist, and sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, he felt him jump slightly, before chuckling.

He leaned down to Grantaire’s ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered, a smile evident in his voice.

Grantaire grinned around the fingers before pulling away. “Nothin’,” he said teasingly, bringing the finger back into his mouth.

Enjolras took the joint from his hand and took a long pull before blowing smoke directly into Grantaire’s face as Grantaire began to suck with more intensity.

Grantaire pulled away from Enjolras’ hand with a dramatic gasp. “Are you implying something here dear Apollo?” he said, feigning surprise.

He could practically feel the eye-roll he knew Enjolras made at his hated nickname. “Oh please, you’re then one with the ridiculously obvious oral fixation,” he said, with a flick to Grantaire’s neck.

Grantaire grinned. “You love it.”

Enjolras paused for a second. Instead of responding, he gently nudged Grantaire off him before standing up, meeting Grantaire’s confused look with a small smirk.

“I’m sure Eponine’s bathroom is open.” He paused. “Unless Marius is throwing up again,” his smirk changed shortly to a look of slight disgust.

Grantaire wanted to be surprised at Enjolras’ proposition, but honestly, in the three month’s they had been dating, Grantaire had learned that the elegant and cause-focused student was just as sexually driven as him. And just as much of a freak.

He took one last swig of wine before putting it down and practically shooting up from his seat. “Let’s find out,” he tried to say in a seductive and easy tone. But Enjolras had his way of sending Grantaire into a stuttering and timid _bitch_ at the mere implication of sex. His voice came out high and shaky. He hated it. He loved it.

Enjolras took one last pull from the joint before striding towards the hallway, placing it in Joly’s limp hand, who took it without question and brought it to his lips. Grantaire trailed behind him like an eager puppy, giving two shits whether their friends saw.

Marius was in fact not throwing up in the bathroom and the ridiculously tiny room looked fairly undisturbed. Enjolras peered around the corner of doorway one last time before roughly pulling Grantaire in and slamming the door shut. Counterproductive in the whole sneaking thing, Grantaire thought.

He was about to open his mouth to voice so, when Enjolras slammed him hard into the door and locked it, pressing him against it firmly by his waist and shoulder. His last coherent thought left his hazy mind in a second. Enjolras’ face was still flushed and his eyes were a bit red. His hair was as wildly beautiful as ever. He was looking at him with a look that surprised Grantaire just as much as the first time he saw it; a look of hunger, of want. A look that conveyed that he wanted to eat Grantaire alive.

Enjolras’ face softened a bit, even as his grip on Grantaire remained almost crushing. “Are you okay with this?” he asked softly.

“Yes, yes, please,” Grantaire answered almost immediately, unable to hide the slight desperation in his voice. It was sweet that Enjolras always checked on him before they started, always wanting to ensure Grantaire felt okay, felt good. But Grantaire had yet to ever answer no. 

Enjolras nodded before his face twisted again into the smirk Grantaire was now so familiar with. “Of course you are, you little whore,” he purred. Grantaire felt his stomach flip at the name, his head easily pulling him into submission.

Enjolras pulled Grantaire’s hips flush against his, Grantaire already feeling Enjolras’ dick half hard against his own. He leaned in to whisper into Grantaire’s ear. “You certainly showed how much of a whore you are tonight, sucking on my fingers right in front of all our friends.” He bit Grantaire’s ear hard and Grantaire whined, his hips squirming in Enjolras’ tight grasp. “Don’t you think?” he teased.

Grantaire nodded frantically. Enjolras moved his head down and bit hard into Grantaire’s neck, causing him to let out a choked moan. “Answer me,” Enjolras demanded with a warning tone.

“Yes,” he whispered. He then paused. “sir,” he added, knowing how much Enjolras loved the term. 

Enjolras kissed the bite on Grantaire’s neck in praise. “Yes, you are. And everyone can tell too, like that girl at the bar, hmm?” He pushed Grantaire’s hips back against the door before slotting a leg between them and pressing down hard

Grantaire squirmed again and gasped a bit. “Ye-yeah I guess,” he replied shakily.

“You guess? She was all over you because she knew you were a slut who would get down on your knees anywhere. What she was too stupid to know, was that you’re mine.” He growled threateningly. Grantaire shivered.

“I’m yours, sir” he couldn’t help but reply, needing to confirm something he felt so fully at the moment, wrapped in Enjolras’ crushing embrace.

He pulled away, suddenly leaving Grantaire panting against the door. He walked to the toilet and put the seat down before elegantly sitting on it, spreading his legs and leaning back, looking at Grantaire with the same intensity. “Come here, slut,” he said with easy authority.

Grantaire stumbled over to him, standing awkwardly in front of him, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss him without permission. Enjolras looked him up and down and Grantaire had to stop himself from checking his own clothes. He was wearing his typical black jeans and leather jacket with a simple faded olive green shirt underneath. He was sweating under the black beanie on his head.

“Strip,” Enjolras ordered, almost in a bored tone.

Grantaire felt his stomach flip flop. He knew Enjolras loved him naked while he himself remained clothed, Grantaire too loving the power contrast. But in his best friend’s bathroom? He glanced at Enjolras’ hungry gaze and…fuck it.

He was too drunk to try to be graceful and seductive and simply toed off his lose docs and shrugged off his jacket, trying to ignore Enjolras’ intense stare, who had simply pulled his pants and boxers down, exposing his already hard cock. He pulled of his shirt and beanie and shimmied out of his pants, but hesitated at his boxers.

Enjolras quirked an eyebrow when he paused. “Well? Take them off boy. Don’t try my patience.”

Grantaire blushed. “Yes sir.” He pulled down his boxers, letting his cock slap against his stomach. He felt himself blush impossibly harder with slight embarrassment at the sound.

Enjolras looked the tattooed man up and down. “Gorgeous,” he let out in an exhale. Grantaire squirmed and resisted the urge to object. Enjolras would not like that. 

The student closed his legs before pulling on Grantaire’s hips, leading him to clumsily fall into his lap, straddling his legs. Grantaire gasped in surprise and Enjolras smirked again while wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s lower back.

“Maybe this is where I need to keep you, in my lap, so people will know what’s mine.” He pressed his nails into Grantaire’s fleshy hips and Grantaire moaned at the slight pain. “She obviously couldn’t see your desperate gaze on me all night, just begging for my attention, otherwise she would have known to stay away.” His fingers trailed down the crack of Grantaire’s ass and pressed lightly against his hole. Grantaire whined. The busy week had left him pent up and desperate and he could already feel his cock leaking slightly. He leaned his head back. “It’s just not enough though, you’re too pretty,” Enjolras whispered. Grantaire avoided his gaze, unable to look at his boyfriend after his compliment.

Enjolras slapped his ass and Grantaire jumped. “Right?” He growled threateningly.

“Yes sir,” Grantaire moaned out in obedience.

“Good boy. Now suck.” Enjolras pulled his fingers from Grantaire’s ass and shoved them into his mouth.

Grantaire, realizing it was the uninjured hand, sucked enthusiastically. Enjolras stared at the fingers in his mouth with his lips slightly parted and his eyes lidded, before looking up to Grantaire who was looking back at him, glassy eyed. 

“Now, I don’t want my little whore thinking about what that man said.” Enjolras frowned, his other hand curling around Grantaire’s waist protectively. Grantaire, looked away, still sucking but now avoiding Enjolras’ gaze. He hadn’t forgotten the man’s words. “Look at me,” Enjolras snapped.

Grantaire’s gaze shot back to Enjolras’ instinctively at the order. It was hard for him to meet the intense gaze.

“You’re my beautiful boy. And so you don’t question what I think or say, because you’re my smart, amazing, stunning, good boy who follows and believes his master, right?” Enjolras pulled his fingers from Grantaire mouth, expecting a response.

Grantaire couldn’t even hesitate. While normally, if he wasn’t so deep in subspace, he would object or be unable to answer. But at the moment, all he felt was the desire to please. “Yes, sir,” He breathed out shakily, trying to chase Enjolras’ fingers back into his mouth.

Enjolras chuckled and shook his head, pulling his fingers away just in time. “My good, greedy boy, you just love having anything in your mouth.” Grantaire nodded. He placed the fingers teasingly on Grantaire’s lips. Grantaire tried again to bring them into to his mouth but Enjolras pulled away again and Grantaire had to suppress another whine.

He tapped Grantaire’s ass. “Did I give you permission, whore?”

Grantaire felt himself shrink a bit and he looked down. “No sir,” he said dejectedly.

“I know my poor boy just needs me in his mouth, my fingers, my dick. It’s okay sweetheart, I know.” He stroked Grantaire’s hair. “But you need to ask nicely first,” he purred, tilting Grantaire’s chin back up to meet his eyes.

It was something Grantaire was working on; making eye contact during their scenes. He was good at dirty talk, loved it in fact. He loved when Enjolras made him beg. But the eye contact was hard. He guessed it had something to do with his self-esteem; facing the look of pure, intense hunger and affection that his boyfriend wore when looking at him. But he was working on it, he was trying. For Enjolras.

So, he held Enjolras’ gaze, even if he squirmed a bit.

“Please sir, may I have your fingers? Please? Let me get them wet for you so you can use me how you want,” he whispered, trying his best to appeal to Enjolras’ love for begging. He leaned his head down slightly and looked at Enjolras through his eyelashes. His own cock twitched at his words.

Enjolras’ mouth fell open a bit and he took a shaky breath. Bingo, Grantaire thought smugly.

“You may,” Enjolras said, his voice cracking slightly but still managing to maintain his authoritative tone. He brought his fingers to his lips and Grantaire practically dove forward to bring them into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as if it were Enjolras’ dick.

Enjolras had always been the quiet one in bed. While Grantaire could never shut the fuck up, Enjolras rarely actually moaned, preferring to speak to his lover instead. However, now, while watching his boyfriend’s mouth, he did let out little pants, Grantaire observed triumphantly.

After a few more moments he pulled his fingers out, Grantaire’s mouth making a loud popping noise as they left. Enjolras’ eyes widened a bit at the noise. He took another shaky breath.

“I’m going to prep you now, since I know that’s what my little whore needs: a good fucking. Something to remind him who owns him.” He pressed his pointer finger to Grantaire’s hole, circling it lightly and making Grantaire pant with want. “Because I can always tell what my boy needs.”

Grantaire nodded again enthusiastically. “Yes sir, I need it.” Enjolras was right: he didn’t just want it, he needed it.

At that he pushed in his finger, the lack of lubricant mixed with the need he had endured all week, made him let out a loud moan. Enjolras slapped his ass even harder this time, making Grantaire let out a whimper immediately after.

“Quiet slut. One finger in and you need to let the whole apartment know?” Enjolras growled. Grantaire shut his mouth immediately and bit his lip.

He loved the stretch, he loved the burn from the lack of proper lubrication and he had to bite his lip hard when Enjolras pushed a second finger in. He began to shift slightly on the fingers to get them deeper. Enjolras, to his surprise, allowed it, gripping his waist tight as he moved back and forth. Enjolras fucked him for a few more minutes, pressing teasingly into his prostate every once in a while, Grantaire unable to hold back pathetic whimpers and moans. Each time Grantaire got too loud, Enjolras would smack his ass.

When he had been thoroughly stretched with three of his boyfriend’s long fingers Enjolras pulled them out slowly, leaving Grantaire empty. His ass was red from each punishing slap to it. Enjolras tsked at Grantaire’s whine of protest. “Quiet whore, I know you’re desperate. Don’t worry though,” he stroked Grantaire’s cheek softly, a contrast to his harsh words. “I’ll give you what you need.” He kissed Grantaire for the first time that night. It was soft and sweet for a few moments, before Grantaire couldn’t help but open his mouth, desperate for all Enjolras could give him. Enjolras bit his lip teasingly as he allowed Grantaire to indulge in his lips, before pulling away and grabbing his cock, stroking himself. He licked his palm, Grantaire watching with rapt attention, and brought it down to his cock, stroking faster.

“What’s the safe word?” His voice was just as demanding, but Grantaire knew of his concern for his boyfriend’s safety and mental state.

“Soutine,” he replied with a smile he couldn’t help. Enjolras had let him pick his favorite artist.

“Good boy. Do not hesitate to use it at any time.” The demanding tone he upheld made Grantaire feel even more secure than if he were speaking kindly. It appealed to his need to obey. He would be a good boy. He would tell Enjolras to stop if he needed to.

Enjolras grabbed his cock and Grantaire pushed himself above it, the tip resting against his sensitive hole.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Remind you who you belong to.” He circled the head of his dick around Grantaire’s hole and Grantaire felt his body shake in anticipation. “You are not to touch yourself. If you want to cum, you will cum from my cock only.”

“Yes sir,” Grantaire replied, automatically clasping his hands behind his back. He wanted so badly to just sit straight down on his cock. But he had to wait. He hadn’t received permission yet.

“Good boy,” Enjolras praised. And with that, he pulled Grantaire down by his waist and pushed him down hard by his shoulder. Grantaire cried out helplessly when the head pushed past his rim, unable to stop himself. The stretch was a lot to handle after a week of celibacy. He and Enjolras were not familiar with such a week.

Enjolras was unyielding though, and continued to push his boyfriends shaking form onto his thick cock until he was seated in his lap. Grantaire was letting out little whimpers on each panting breath, helpless with his hands behind his back and his boyfriend holding him down.

Enjolras kissed him hard, Grantaire immediately opening his mouth to his boyfriend’s tongue. He had to pull away with a gasp once Enjolras began to guide him up and down slowly, his own legs scrambling to help with the movements. However, Enjolras’ grip on him kept their movements slow, leaving Grantaire to feel the drag of his cock painfully slowly and incredibly intensely.

“See what I mean? This is where you’re meant to be, in my lap, on my cock, completely and utterly mine,” Enjolras said, his lips inches from Grantaire’s parted ones.

Grantaire groaned at the words and struggled to push himself up faster. Enjolras’, however, kept an iron grip on his shoulder, pushing him back down. He dug his nails into Grantaire’s shoulders and waist hard.

“What do you think you’re doing whore?” He held Grantaire down on his cock, thrusting upward off the toilet seat straight into Grantaire’s prostate, making his legs give out and his body fall deeper onto Enjolras. “Do you think you get any control on what’s happening here? On how I fuck you? You greedy fucking slut, you should know better.” He slapped Grantaire’s ass, making Grantaire let out a strangled scream as it made him jerk on the cock pressed to his prostate. Enjolras laughed, making Grantaire blush. “Good boys take what’s given to them. They aren’t greedy little sluts who try to take control, right Grantaire?” His voice was teasing, but it had sinister undertone, a warning.

“R-right sir,” Grantaire said shakily.

Enjolras gave him a curt nod of satisfaction. “Good boy.”

He then began to guide him up and down again, Grantaire ensuring that he simply followed Enjolras’ pace, no matter how much his cock leaked and twitched. He tried to hold back his moans and whimpers at each press to his prostate, knowing his friends were right down the hall. But each press to his prostate, with their slow and deep pace, left him wanting to sob in pleasure. He shut his eyes and bit his lip.

“There you go, that’s my good boy, doing as I say,” Enjolras started again. His grip on his shoulder tightened. “Perhaps now that we’ve seen how utterly oblivious people are to my property, we need to begin to collar you in public, hm?”

Grantaire’s eyes flew open and he whimpered at the idea. He loved his collar, a dark green strip of leather decorated with silver studs. He loved it so much he had begun to wear it at Enjolras’ apartment constantly, and even sometimes (most times) alone. 

“Oh, you like that idea? You like the idea of showing everyone who’s whore you are?” Enjolras teased as he began to move Grantaire slightly faster, placing his other hand on his hip.

“Yes sir,” Grantaire gasped out. He could tell Enjolras loved the idea just as much, with the way he gazed up at his boyfriend, eyes lidded and mouth parted.

He began to move the boy even faster, Grantaire’s legs beginning to burn as he tried to keep up with the pace without any aid from his arms. “I’ll attach a leash to you, keep you sitting on my lap, maybe even on my cock, in front of everyone. All our friends, even strangers will see whose beautiful whore you are.” His voice was becoming slightly breathier now, as he began bouncing Grantaire on his cock.

Grantaire’s mouth was spilling breathy whimpers with each press to his prostate that were slowly growing higher and higher in pitch. His head spun with the image of himself on his boyfriend’s cock, a leash wrapped in his boyfriend’s hands, keeping him in place where he belonged. His cock was red and leaking constantly now, almost painful due to its lack of stimulation. His legs were shaking from the strain of bouncing on his boyfriend’s lap and the overstimulation, and he felt them begin to burn and weaken. His thighs rubbed against Enjolras’ jeans, making them tender. He began to slow down slightly, hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t notice.

Enjolras, ever observant, slapped his ass yet again, before grabbing under Grantaire’s ass and practically lifting him up and down, causing Grantaire to actually sob this time. Enjolras’ strength always surprised everyone. He was toned, but fairly lanky, yet here he was managing to practically hold Grantaire up on his own, despite Grantaire being almost his height and not-so-small.

Being moved by Enjolras, as if he were a toy completely helpless to Enjolras’ wants, made his cock twitch and his moans grow louder. He knew their friends were nearby, he knew he was being loud, but he couldn’t help it. Enjolras’ breath was becoming ragged and he was moving Grantaire faster and faster, up and down on his cock, while thrusting upwards. Grantaire’s eyes rolled back when he held him down on his cock, simply grinding hard into his prostate, Grantaire’s legs too weak and shaky at this point to move him away from the immense, almost overstimulating, pleasure.

Enjolras, who seemed to have his eyes on Grantaire’s face constantly when they fucked, chuckled raggedly at Grantaire’s inability to hide his pleasure. “Does it feel good whore? Does it feel good to be mine?”

Grantaire nodded and tried to spit out a ‘Yes sir’, that instead came out as a breathy moan.

“Then cum for me sweetheart, cum for me like the good boy you are,” Enjolras whispered as he rolled his hips straight into Grantaire’s prostate. He dug his finger nails into Grantaire’s ass just as he did so, sending Grantaire flying over the edge, letting out a heaving sob as he felt himself spurt all over his chest.

At Grantaire’s sudden climax, Enjolras stilled and gasped out a quiet moan, his face falling to Grantaire’s neck as he came right after. Grantaire, in his post-orgasmic haze, simply whimpered when he felt Enjolras suck a large mark into his neck. Marking him. Claiming him. God, he was going to pass out.

They sat there for a minute, Enjolras simply panting into his neck and Grantaire too tired to lift his head from his boyfriend’s hair. His mind felt hazy, his ass burned, and his legs were still shaking: he felt amazing.

“That was amazing,” Enjolras echoed his own thoughts. “You were amazing,” he breathed out, warm breath onto Grantaire’s damp skin. He stroked Grantaire’s back.

Instead of having to respond to the compliment, Grantaire simply lifted his heavy head and brought Enjolras’ lips to his. They kissed for a soft, sweet moment, before Enjolras pulled away.

“Let’s take care of you, hm?”

Grantaire simply nodded, too out of it to truly respond. He placed his feet solidly on the ground and pushed himself up on shaking legs with Enjolras’ help. He whimpered as Enjolras’ cock dragged out of him, hitting his sensitive rim. He quickly felt something drip down his leg and he blushed as Enjolras moaned at the sight. When he stood up on shaky legs, Enjolras stood up as well, tucking himself back in and spinning Grantaire around to sit on the toilet seat. He winced at the feeling against his burning ass. He simply leaned back against it as he watched Enjolras shuffle around in the bathroom, obviously looking for something.

“Put the lights on, dumbass,” he whispered out with an exhausted grin.

Enjolras looked at him with a smile. “Right,” he said and flicked on the lights, making them both hiss in pain. He turned them back off. “Bad idea.”

“Keep them off,” Grantaire agreed.

Enjolras returned with wet wipes in hand and a cold washcloth, which he used to clean Grantaire off, who blushed the entire time-as always. When he was done, he raised Grantaire’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Grantaire turned absolutely beet red. Enjolras’ softness after sex still surprised him, after years of rough and careless hookups. He still had to tell himself sometimes that he wasn’t dreaming in these moments, in every moment with Enjolras.

Enjolras pulled him up into his chest and picked up his shirt, helping Grantaire dress himself and kissing him in between articles of clothing. When they were done Grantaire stumbled over to the mirror on shaky legs and tried to calm his messy curls to fit them under his beanie.

“Do you think they heard us?” Grantaire asked, looking at the Enjolras in the mirror. If they heard anyone it was definitely him. He cringed. If he had been sober, maybe he would have been able to muffle his cries more. But probably not.

“I don’t think so; the music is pretty loud out there and they’re all drunk. I mean, you saw Joly,” Enjolras chuckled as he went to unlock the door.

Grantaire followed him to the door, trying to ease his still shaking legs. Goddamnit Enjolras. His boyfriend opened the door and they peeked out into the dark hallway.

“I think we’re good,” Enjolras whispered, grabbing Grantaire’s hand to lead him down the hall.

“You two are scrubbing that bathroom top to bottom tomorrow morning.” Eponine’s voice echoed down the hall over the loud music. They both cringed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't tell at this point I have a thing for riding. Please leave comments if you feel like being nice and keep in mind I'm always open to take constructive criticism (I would actually greatly appreciate it). See you all soon!


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